


no longer

by pinksunlight



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Compliant, Getting Together, Kissing, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Songfic, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, a lot of mark being in love with donghyuck tbh, except also mutual lack of communication so, loosely based on mark being there when hyuck recorded no longer, that might just be me projecting on him oops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:28:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28187694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinksunlight/pseuds/pinksunlight
Summary: mark could be dangling off the edge of a cliff with only donghyuck’s hand keeping him from falling and he’d still feel safer than if his feet were on the ground (even after being told for the thirtieth time that his hands are too dry). that’s just who donghyuck was.
Relationships: Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Mark Lee
Comments: 26
Kudos: 243





	no longer

**Author's Note:**

> why does lapslock help me write easier. anyways, i couldn't stop thinking ab pining mark and im sad ab nct 2020 coming to an end so :(

_sometimes, i find myself envying the people who don’t love you._

“they’re leaving, mark hyung. get up.”

mark manages to lift his head, heavy as it is with fatigue, just in time to catch donghyuck propped up against the recording room, one hand on the doorknob. the back of the couch depresses as he sinks into it, blinking at donghyuck’s figure.

huh. he hadn’t heard any footsteps. but then again, donghyuck’s always been unfairly graceful, gliding across floors with light limbs, never _just_ walking.

he’s opened the door now but still hasn’t gone in, pointedly raising a tired eyebrow at mark, impatience begins to bloom on his face. mark stifles a yawn and ignores the waves of irritation rolling towards him and breaking at his feet as he takes his sweet time to slip his baseball cap off and run his fingers through his hair.

he’s got an unhealthy obsession with pushing donghyuck’s buttons, not that it’s uncalled for with the way donghyuck is always pushing his. it feels good knowing the exact way to get under donghyuck’s skin after all these years.

“hyung.” donghyuck’s voice cuts into him like a throwing knife, but he knows he won’t actually voice his frustrations.

donghyuck will gripe and groan about being ignored or mark being a killjoy or something else completely trivial for hours if you’ll let him, but he clams up when it comes to the real, genuine emotions.

unfortunate for donghyuck’s hardass image. fortunate for mark’s tendency to poke a sleeping donghyuck.

“are you getting up or not? i couldn’t care less if they leave you behind but taeyong hyung told me to tell you and i don’t want him on my case if you don’t show up in time.”

mark swallows back a smile. feelings and donghyuck just don’t mix, they never have. not like this, at least.

donghyuck could always just go about his way, leave mark in the waiting area to make up his mind, but mark’s learned over the years to look between donghyuck’s words because they almost never match up to his actions. even now, exhausted and a little miffed, he cares too much to leave anyone behind.

mark could be dangling off the edge of a cliff with only donghyuck’s hand keeping him from falling and he’d still feel safer than if his feet were on the ground (even after being told for the thirtieth time that his hands are too dry). that’s just who donghyuck was. 

“no he didn’t,” he finally refutes, grabbing his water bottle off the coffee table and pushing up to approach donghyuck. “i told them earlier that they could leave. i wanted to wait. go home with you.”

he pauses in front of donghyuck and shoots him a smug smile, it sits unfamiliar on his face, “you don’t have to lie to say you care, you know?”

“that would be helpful advice if i did actually care,” donghyuck snorts, crowding mark until he passes through the door and it can close behind them.

maybe four or so years ago, this would’ve fooled mark, but now he can see the subtle curling in of donghyuck’s shoulder, the way they get when he’s a touch embarrassed. caught in the act of, god forbid, _caring_. “you should’ve just gone, recording alone is easier anyway.”

right, as if that's ever actually mattered to donghyuck.

mark sits down on the couch and watches donghyuck mill around with a steady gaze, feeling somewhat like he’s been caught in a trap of hyper-attention. it’s always like this. donghyuck could be one among thousands in a room, and mark’s eyes would still land on him first, sticking to him despite the crowd.

he's talking to a staff member and mark focuses on the way some of the tension recedes from the set of his shoulders, orange shirt shifting minutely and still managing to cast a faint glow on the back of his neck. his eyes curve into gentle moons as he speaks, the fastest way to pinpoint a sincere donghyuck, and a small smile remains on his face as he grabs a manilla folder with his name on it, grabbing a pencil before he comes to stand right back in front of mark.

when mark tilts his head back and their eyes meet, it’s a little startling.

donghyuck is just so quiet like this. he’s always serious about recording but something different seeps into the air about him when it’s a ballad. he says quiet things, sends quiet looks, moves with quiet feet, and mark never knows how to fully adapt to this donghyuck like he’s adapted to normal donghyuck.

sometimes mark wishes he wasn’t so attuned to him, because it sets him on _fire_ , and so much as a breath from donghyuck will only fuel the flames.

_the more i want you, my reality gets heavier._

donghyuck trusts music in the way only someone who’s been in love with it for a long, long time can. he doesn’t fall into his element; he steps, _glides_ into it. with purpose and confidence.

maybe it’s the vulnerability that makes him different. because donghyuck doesn’t do emotions, mark can attest to that, except sometimes—sometimes he does.

a silent question is present in his eyes as he flicks his gaze down to the bottle and back up again, hand hovering halfway to grabbing it _(is the water warm?)_ , and mark nods once, holding out the bottle for donghyuck to grab. their fingers brush. mark burns.

donghyuck turns without another word and floats into the booth.

if someone had told the mark of 2014 that one day he’d be close enough to scrappy, bratty lee donghyuck to communicate with him through single, silent looks (that didn’t, for once, convey blatant dislike from opposite corners of the trainee practice rooms), he probably would’ve promptly booked a plane ticket back to canada for fear of catching the obvious insanity in the air.

but, here they are.

he doesn’t remember when exactly he decided the fire was worth it, that donghyuck was going to be a forever person, a constant like a staff on a sheet of music. 

maybe it was the first beginning, when donghyuck got under his skin and made him want to scream with anger for the first time in his life.

maybe it was the second beginning, when they were the only two people who knew what it was like to be in the middle of a venn diagram, and donghyuck’s company became more of a comfort than a headache. 

maybe it was when mark realized he was dangerously standing on a seesaw beam, right in the middle, and even though it was inevitable to eventually have it tip one way on the other, it didn’t really matter to him, not with donghyuck by his side. not even when he started to teeter, and teeter, and teeter, until the beam no longer ran parallel to the ground.

all he knows is that it’s ended up this way, and he wouldn't change a thing. 

through the glass door, mark can see donghyuck annotating the sheet in front of him before setting the pencil down. across from mark, one of the producers asks if he’s ready and donghyuck nods. the music kicks in from the very beginning, another odd donghyuck idiosyncrasy.

(“doesn’t it take longer to record like that? save yourself some time, dude.”

“it helps to feel out the music, hyung. i like the build up. a good score can milk the emotions of a movie scene dry, same philosophy.”)

music became a forever passion for mark the very first day he held his guitar, neck too long and wide for his little fingers to play properly, but it rested close enough to his heart for it to feel like an appendage. something crucial and thrumming with life.

the best part of any relationship is the constant uncovering, the perpetual peeling back of layers to go deeper and deeper, finding something new each time, and that’s what music is to mark. he loves learning how to write and compose, he loves pushing himself to play that difficult riff, and above all else, he loves listening to a new genre for the first time and being unsure, and then falling in love a few songs in.

listening to music, letting it varnish his formative years, letting it grow to mean more than a melody and a harmony until it becomes a hand to hold. the feeling takes him somewhere else without him having to move an inch, if only for a few fleeting moments.

it’s the feeling that keeps him going most days, and he knows, when he looks at donghyuck, that the way he feels about listening to music is the same way donghyuck feels about creating it. donghyuck, who grows quiet in the throes of passion. donghyuck, who values time but gives up a lot of it to immerse himself in his craft, feeling out, building up.

donghyuck, who says things like _same philosophy_ and expects people not to fall at his feet.

mark swallows when donghyuck draws in a breath, lips parting. expectations are so inconsequential in the face of reality. they don’t scald, for one.

when donghyuck sings, it’s with unmatched devotion, lips blanketing every word like it’s new to the world—and mark believes it, too, because donghyuck treats lyrics like they’re a chance to reinvent, to bring something new, something him, into what already is.

mark closes his eyes, letting his voice slip into his ears, trickle down his throat, wrap a burning hand around his heart and squeeze. tight, unyielding. it’s awful and wonderful all at once, as most things donghyuck are.

as cool as he tries to play himself off, donghyuck has always been one to burst into song or hum under his breath without realizing it, and it’s purely out of love. but this is different.

in the studio, just like this, it becomes impossible for mark to conceive that donghyuck was ever meant to do anything but sing. his orange shirt should be abrasive on the eyes, but it’s soft and fuzzy under the dim studio lights. his skin should be pale from fatigue, except it glows a little brighter every time he belts out another note.

the only life mark can envision for donghyuck is one where he’s fated to music. and in this timeline (inevitably, luckily), tied to mark, too.

when mark opens his eyes, it’s to hands tucked in close like they’re being held in a prayer, donghyuck singing into the mic with his own eyes shut. and it’s this, the sight of his fingers all twisted up, sacred and divine, that finally burns mark to the very ground until all that’s left in his place is a faint scorch mark.

donghyuck’s voice is honey, sweet and smooth, but today it’s barbed with a roughness that mark can only attribute to someone who knows heartbreak like an old friend.

it makes him think. it shouldn’t. but it does, anyway.

the music cuts off quick, but donghyuck is slow to open his eyes, lashes hesitating to part. his hands fall gently to his side and he takes in a long breath before finally, finally turning to look out the room, straight at mark, one eyebrow raised.

another silent question. _(good?)_

another silent answer. _(the best.)_

god, mark likes donghyuck so, so much.

which is, at the end of the day, nothing more or less than a pity. because as far as mark can tell (and he’s spent an unhealthy amount of time wondering and observing and hoping), donghyuck doesn’t like him back.

not like that, at least.

he likes the way donghyuck sings like he’s serenading the music itself, he likes the way he’s made of rounded corners but forces his personality into sharp edges, he likes the way he says recording alone is easier but never minds the company because it’ll never stop him from singing like he’s the only one in the room.

donghyuck and vulnerability don’t mix well, mark has bruises on his heart collected over the years to prove it, but in the recording studio—he volunteers to cut himself open time and time again, bleeding out emotions in sync with the music until they stain everything in the room, taint every surface. he lays himself bare _on purpose_ , which is about as potent as vulnerability can get.

donghyuck’s always been brave like that, and mark likes him. for all that he is, for all that he wants to be, for all that he ever can be. his forever person, lee donghyuck.

_if i could draw out all the emotions inside of our hearts,_ _there would be no fear of wandering between misunderstanding and understanding._

it’s terrifying because it’s so powerful and all-consuming. it laps him up, leaving a charred imprint of donghyuck’s name on his skin, and he can’t even find it in himself to be upset.

donghyuck takes a drink from the water bottle, messy hair falling loose as he tilts his head back. he sits down and motions for the song to be played back.

mark watches, almost entranced, as donghyuck lets himself scatter into the air, as the feeling plays out on his face, features twisting and jumping involuntarily at every nuance of the song. something inside of him freezes for half a second before it melts and melts and melts, leaving his whole body tingling with a pleasant warmth.

it’s a little bit like falling in—it’s a little bit like being in—it’s a little bit like wanting to say i—it’s a little bit like—yeah. it’s a little bit like that.

the producer turns to him quizzically when he jolts up and excuses himself with a quick bow, rushing out the studio to grab some water.

in an alcove at the end of the hall where the vending machine sits is where mark finds his reprieve, leaning against its side with a cold bottle in his hand. it’s a tight fit, seeing as there’s only about three feet on either side of the machine before the wall re-emerges, but it’s somehow exactly what he needs. to not be seen, to not exist for a few minutes.

having a crush isn’t something he’s used to or has had the time for, in all honesty, but even now, it doesn’t feel like a crush (it never has). and that’s so much worse than if it did. because a crush can still be stomped down until it can’t call attention to itself, the stupid pre-teen butterflies can still be ignored and his eyes can still be ripped away from donghyuck’s hair, his collarbones, his legs.

but he’s been trying for years.

he can ignore and pretend and look away as much as he wants, but what is he supposed to do when the ache has settled deep into his bones, only easing off when he’s near donghyuck? what is he supposed to do when he lies awake at night thinking about a donghyuck that will let him in, show him around without shying away, ask him to stay for a while?

how do you ignore constant visions of the future in which you and your best friend grow old with each other but never grow out of each other, never grow out of the comfort and laughter and music and—and yeah, the love.

because that’s what this is, right? it has to be.

as terrifying and surreal as it is, it’s got to be love.

mark grimaces and closes his eyes, letting the cool press against his temple slow his thoughts.

he’s held back for so many years, he can make it through one day. just a few more hours, really. and then they’ll go home, and donghyuck will go to his floor while mark returns to his, and everything will be okay again—well, bearable. everything will be bearable again.

johnny’s voice comes to mind immediately, in the same split tone of amusement and worry he’d used when mark had spilled his barrel of emotions to him late one night, shaking so badly johnny’d had to wrap him up tight in a blanket. _“you really think_ this _is okay? jesus, mark, ever heard of having a conversation?”_

 _“i can’t do that, hyung,”_ mark had replied instantly, pulling the blanket closer. he’d shaken his head. _“i can’t risk that with him.”_

 _“yes you can, you know how i know? because i’ve watched you grow up, like it or not, and i know you. you can do anything you put your mind to, but you don’t want to. there’s a difference.”_ johnny had softened, cracked a small smile as he ruffled mark’s hair like he used to when they were still trainees and mark was barely a teenager. _“you’re afraid, mark lee, but you don’t have to be.”_

_“you don’t know that.”_

_“i do. you’re not the only one i’ve watched grow up.”_

a warm bottle of water replaces the cold one in his hands and mark’s eyes snap open. donghyuck stands in front of him with an almost bored expression, but there’s a crack in the façade lingering near the set of his mouth, and mark spots his concern.

“you’ve got stuff to record tomorrow, don’t be stupid,” donghyuck reprimands flatly, no real bite in his voice.

he looks drained while stepping forward into the space, forcing mark to straighten up and press himself back against the wall. donghyuck rests his weight against the machine, softly bumping his head against the side and letting his eyes flutter shut, breathing out a sigh. the mirror image of mark from a few seconds ago.

like this, they’re incredibly close. almost unnaturally so, and mark is very much aware of the fact that this is the boy he’s in love with.

in the back of his mind, he registers the fact that he’s essentially trapped, unable to leave if donghyuck doesn’t move first. but his focus is more diverted to letting his eyes roam over donghyuck’s eyes, nose, lips, free to soak him in when he isn’t paying attention.

“are you alright?” mark finally manages to get out, remembering his role. best friend, leader, teammate. he notices donghyuck’s eyes opening and drags his gaze away from his lips a second too late. a subtle quirk of those very lips has him crossing his arms across his chest nervously. 

thankfully, he doesn’t address it. “are you? why’d you suddenly leave?”

“i asked you first.”

donghyuck rolls his eyes, fingers picking at the label of the water bottle. his hands are so pretty, but more than that, they’re a tell. busy fingers mean a busy mind, for donghyuck. “are you sure you’re a year older than me?”

never straightforward, the lee donghyuck brand. his compliments, his insults, all so circumlocutive. but where donghyuck expects answers from talking in circles until the other person realizes they’re being asked a question, mark relies on not asking at all. it works best on donghyuck, who can’t stand the silence and quickly succumbs.

so that’s what he does. watches donghyuck’s fingers fiddle away and waits for the signs: the furrow between his brows, the sharpening of his eyes, the small pout on his lips (he’d kill mark if he ever pointed that out, though).

“you suck,” he declares. mark nods placatingly, at which he frowns. “fine, it’s a taxing song. doesn’t matter.”

donghyuck throws him a cautious look and mark scoffs half-heartedly and leans in even though his willpower grows weaker by the second, the urge to just _do_ something almost excruciating. “don’t worry your small head, i won’t tell anyone that you’re capable of wearing down like literally everyone else in the world.”

this earns him a well-deserved harsh tug on his earlobe, and mark just laughs as he leans back out of donghuck’s space because he can deal with this. he can deal with donghyuck, his best friend, the way he always has.

except, he can’t help but want more today. just to douse the flames, give him the breath he needs for his heart to slow down and take a break. he grabs the bottle out of donghyuck’s hand and drops it to the floor along with his own, letting his fingers tangle loosely with donghyuck.

“stop _thinking_ and talk to me, hyuck.” donghyuck, clearly surprised at the sudden contact, gives him a few seconds of eye contact before averting his gaze down to their hands. he doesn’t pull away.

it always sends a kind of thrill running through mark when he initiates the touching because it turns donghyuck into someone else, someone who isn’t attempting to sit in mark’s lap and wind his arms around his waist and press kisses to his cheek every chance he gets.

mark’s probably just projecting, but he likes to pretend that it flusters donghyuck, just a little, and sends him into the foreign waters of not knowing how to react—a true rarity. 

“just.” donghyuck licks his lips, a habit that does absolutely nothing for mark’s focus. “it feels like a lot of pressure, this ballad. i feel like i need to bring people to tears with just my voice, like they should fall apart if they hear me sing. but to do that, i’d… have to fall apart first.”

his words are deliberate as ever, but they still leave mark confused. he curls his fingers tighter around donghyuck’s briefly. “you do that all the time, though? you did it today. just now.”

donghyuck stiffens, then turns (carefully, so that their hands stay tangled) to rest with his back against the vending machine. his eyes stay stubbornly stuck to the wall in front of him.

mark could leave now, if he wanted to. stepping over donghyuck’s feet would be easy, stepping into the corridor to breathe even more so. but he doesn’t, of course he doesn’t.

“it’s different for this song,” is all donghyuck says.

mark hums thoughtfully, then moves so he’s opposite donghyuck, directly in his line of vision. donghyuck starts a little at the sudden proximity, shifting his feet back so that mark can stand comfortably.

mark’s heart starts working overtime. god, he really doesn't know how to deal with situations like these, huh. he always ends up making things harder for himself.

when he looks at donghyuck, he pictures the two of them from an outsider’s perspective. what would they look like, to a staff member? to someone just happening to pass by?

“hyung,” donghyuck starts, but his lips stay parted and he doesn’t seem to know how to follow up, so he clamps them shut and kicks once at mark’s ankle, inspecting the damage he causes.

donghyuck can be so difficult, finding ways to close up in record time. he protects his emotions like they’re precious jewels someone might steal away, but how much longer until he realizes mark doesn’t exactly intend on pulling a grand heist? 

although donghyuck’s become somewhat of an open book to him over the years, sometimes mark still stumbles across passages written in a language he doesn’t understand—and donghyuck’s never been one to translate. 

“tell me why it’s different,” he says, more commanding than usual. the urgency no longer comes from wanting to confess or desperately wishing for a confession back. no, this time it’s just about donghyuck never communicating healthily.

donghyuck’s gaze snaps up, irritated, but his eyes seem to have trouble focusing on mark’s face, flitting around until they rest somewhere lower, his adam’s apple, maybe. mark swallows. donghyuck licks his lips. 

“i don’t need a therapy session, mark lee.”

“don’t call me that. i’m not offering you a stupid therapy session, hyuck. i’m offering a conversation. between—between friends.”

“yeah? if i’m your friend, shouldn’t i be allowed to not call you hyung?”

fuck it. mark’s been patient long enough. he disentangles their fingers to wrap his around donghyuck’s wrist, and then, in one swift motion, he brings it up to his chest, not yet touching, but close.

recognition dawns on donghyuck’s features and he cracks immediately, eyes widening a fraction as he starts trying to pull his wrist away.

“fine, whatever, hyung, mark hyung, don’t do it, okay, _hyung_ —" his panicked string of words cuts off when mark finally gets his curled up fingers to thump against his chest. his heart is beating way too fast, but he still brings his other hand to uncurl donghyuck’s fingers until his palm is splayed over his heart properly.

donghyuck chews on the inside of his lip, glaring at his hand like it’s betrayed him, and mark thanks his temporary anger for providing a distraction from his stir-crazy heartbeat.

the story goes like this:

they’re trainees, incessantly at each other’s throats to the point where people clear the room when they both enter it. when the monthly evaluation rolls around, they’re in the middle of another stupid fight, something about donghyuck’s uncoordinated dancing or mark’s inability to “take a joke”. 

donghyuck finds mark sitting in the staircase hours prior, practicing his diction with a pencil between his teeth. when he opens his mouth, mark cuts him off, ripping the pencil out. 

“don’t start, this is important to me and—” _i can’t have you messing it up_ , he wants to say. but he still hasn’t gotten a good grasp on korean yet, and the sentence structure gets jumbled up in his head, a useless mess that has his eyes watering with frustration as he settles for an easier to piece together, “and you’ll make me mess up.”

he still doesn’t know if it was the way he looked, shaking from the fear and anticipation of the evaluation, lips cracking because of the pencil he kept biting onto, on the verge of tears because his damn brain and mouth just couldn’t work together, but donghyuck had snapped his mouth shut right away.

he sits next to mark, instead, and says, albeit begrudgingly, “i’m not evil, hyung. i care about these things too.”

“sure,” mark sniffs sadly, not above being snarky yet, “you never get nervous. nervous means you care, and you’re never nervous.”

and donghyuck sighs like it pains him to be nice as he takes mark’s hand and plants it over his heart. it’s going a mile a minute. he gives mark a pointed look.

“see? just because i don’t show it doesn’t mean i don’t get nervous. of course i care, stupid, this is my future you’re talking about. we all get nervous. but you shouldn’t be. because even though you suck, you don’t suck at this.”

he looks at the sheet of lyrics and back at mark, and somehow the weight of the world doesn’t rest as heavy on his shoulders anymore. he stares in awe at the untouchable lee donghyuck, who apparently, isn’t so untouchable after all, and their entire useless fight flies out the window.

“thanks, donghyuck,” he chokes out, hand still over donghyuck’s racing heart. “you—you don’t suck either. and i know you care.”

and they stay on the stairwell like that for the rest of the time leading up to the evaluation. it’s the first time mark thinks of donghyuck as a friend, and the thought only grows as the years wear on.

a hand over the heart becomes a way to search for the truth, to ask for honesty where they know it can’t be hidden even if they tried.

it happens when mark tells donghyuck he’s happy they get to debut together, and donghyuck squints so suspiciously that mark drags his hand over his heart, and only lets it drop when donghyuck smiles at how steady the beat is.

it happens when they’re about to go on stage for _billionare_ and donghyuck admits that he’s a little shaken, blindly reaching for mark’s hand as he looks out at the audience from behind the stage, somehow knowing that mark wouldn’t have believed him otherwise.

over time, they’ve stopped. but now—

“i hate this. i’m not _talking_ about it,” donghyuck makes an unpleasant face, avoiding eye contact.

mark doesn’t say anything. donghyuck will talk, inevitably. because it’s something between the two of them, like all his personalized handshakes and knowing every member’s favourite food and having that ongoing joke about autotune with one of the pds. because it’s small, but it has a history, a meaning, and donghyuck cares too much to let that slip away.

mark loosens his grip around donghyuck’s wrist, rubbing his thumb over the skin gently.

“it’s different,” donghyuck sighs wearily, “because there’s usually no truth.”

and it’s not like mark hadn’t been expecting it, but it still feels like a punch to the gut. he tries picturing someone worthy enough to be wanted by donghyuck, but no one seems right.

_my brash confession might make everything more difficult,_ _the world keeps me one step away from you._

“truth,” he echoes stupidly. knowing that donghyuck’s heart belongs to someone else doesn’t exactly dull the effect he has on mark.

“what are you, hard of hearing? yeah, truth.” donghyuck keeps his gaze low, eyelashes fanning out prettily. “it’s too much because the song just feels too real. i’m—god, you really do suck—i’m like, hurt, alright? it hurts. jeez.”

“so you’re saying you’ve felt that way before?”

donghyuck scoffs and shoots a pointed look at where his hand rests over mark’s heart, it’s still racing, and only picks up embarrassingly when donghyuck claws at his chest slightly, finally making direct eye contact with mark. mark feels his ears heating up.

“you’re really gonna keep pretending you don’t know what i’m talking about? c’mon hyung, you’re slow, sure, but do you seriously expect me to believe you’re this slow?”

mark purses his lips, because how was he supposed to know about this mystery person when donghyuck never talks to him about that kind of stuff? their conversations are always a no-feelings zone.

“humour me.”

donghyuck eyes flash with something dangerous, and then something happens that mark has never, in all the years he’s spent with donghyuck, seen before. his lips part in complete and utter surprise as a pinkish hue starts blooming on donghyuck’s cheeks.

he mutters something under his breath and then glares daggers at mark, blush loud and _right there_ , what the fuck.

he starts tugging his wrist back, but mark doesn’t budge. “c’mon, hyung, i don’t want to play whatever masochistic game this is. just let me go back so that i don’t have to hear you actually reject me. it’s not like i don’t know already.”

wait, _what?_ mark runs the words through his head another time and comes to the conclusion that he hasn’t misinterpreted them. but that can’t be true. none of it can. because donghyuck has _never—_ and mark has _always—_ and if they’ve been reading the same stories this whole time why the _fuck_ aren’t they on the same page?

“hyuck,” he says carefully, still a little in awe of everything. donghyuck just tugs on his wrist harder, mark tightens his grip. “donghyuck.”

donghyuck scowls and refuses to give up, pulling and pulling until mark groans and moves that last little bit closer so that he’s got donghyuck caged against the vending machine. he lets go of donghyuck’s wrist, but stops any more of his flighty tactics by placing his hands firmly on his hips.

“hey, dumbass,” mark breathes, about as tired as he is in love. his head is a mess of giddiness and affection and absolute exhaustion but it only takes looking into donghyuck’s dark eyes to sort it all out. 

donghyuck flushes an even deeper shade of red, and mark lets out a small laugh in disbelief when he tries pulling off an annoyed look. 

“why are you so—close, jeez,” he huffs, his hands resting tentatively at mark’s abdomen, keeping a small distance.

“when will you learn to listen to me?”

“when you get someone to add a clause in our contract that says i have to.”

christ, his mouth. his stupid, irritating, mouth that mark doesn’t want to go a day without seeing, doesn’t want to go a day without feeling pressed up against his.

“you’re awful.”

“yeah, well,” donghyuck’s breathing comes faster when mark squeezes his hips, “you, uh—”

“but being around you isn’t hard because it’s awful,” mark’s bravado fails incredibly fast, and he sinks down to rest his head in the crook of donghyuck’s neck. it’s easier, this way. a little. “being around you is hard because i can’t go a minute without wanting to tell you that i’m, like, painfully in love with you. i want to hold your hand and have it mean something, hug you and have it mean something. hyuck, i want to kiss you and have it _mean_ something. i just want you and me, i want us to mean something.”

donghyuck’s breaths fall uneven and shallow next to his ear, and for a few moments he doesn’t say anything. then, he’s slowly wrapping his arms around mark’s waist. in one jerky movement, he tightens his grip and pulls mark as close as he can.

“i think,” he says quietly, slightly stilted in the way he gets when he’s scared, “i understand why your lyrics for our love songs always get green lighted.”

mark laughs awkwardly and then pulls himself out of donghyuck’s neck, placing his hands there instead. carefully, because some part of him still believes that donghyuck might run away or tell him this was all a prank.

that is, until donghyuck throws his head back against the vending machine and stares at the ceiling as he mumbles out a dazed, “mark lee is in love with me. lee minhyung. in love with me.”

“lee minhyung also kind of bared his soul to you and would appreciate some sort of answer?”

“give me a minute, you absolute ass,” donghyuck groans loudly this time, tipping his head back to meet mark’s eyes, flushed as ever, “i’ve been waiting for this since i was, like, fifteen.”

fifteen. huh. the image of fifteen year old donghyuck crushing on sixteen year old mark makes him want to cry and laugh at the same time, because they’ve both been so stupid and waited for so long, and mark is still so intensely in love with donghyuck that it burns, but it’s a pulsing heat this time, insistent and calming all at once.

_i want you even more, even if this reality is heavy and rough_.

_i love you, **love you** , and i’ll tell you with all my heart._

he rubs his thumb over the column of donghyuck’s neck and tries to stifle the sudden burst of affection he feels by saying, “i don’t like it when you swear.” which is hypocritical and not even _true_ , but it isn’t something sappy like _i love you please marry me_ so. it works.

donghyuck doesn’t even look like he thinks before replying blankly, on instinct, “you think i have a dirty mouth now, you should hear me in the bed—”

mark immediately clamps a hand over his mouth. donghyuck’s eyes light up, curving into crescents as mark’s ears go red. he can feel his smile pressed into his palm.

it’s too much, and they’re leaning against a vending machine in the middle of a hallway that is way too close to the recording studios, but mark is physically going to combust if he doesn’t do anything about the ball of energy inside of him that has donghyuck’s name written across it.

“i think,” mark takes in a deep breath. “i think, when i take my hand off your mouth, i might kiss you.”

donghyuck seems to lose most of his mirth at that, eyes dragging down boldly to stare at mark’s lips.

“and,” he adds shakily, “if you’re not cool with that, you’ve got to do something right now to tell me.”

donghyuck doesn’t so much as breathe, back to holding mark’s stare like it’s a challenge. so mark slides his hand away to uncover soft pink lips, and he tries to control his shaking hands as he cups them around donghyuck’s face. donghyuck unwinds his arms to grip tightly at the sides of his shirt instead.

“last chance to say no,” mark mutters, brain scrambled from being so close to donghyuck’s mouth, to donghyuck.

“last chance to kiss me before i kiss you first,” donghyuck retorts, but his voice is thin and weak.

and then mark is kissing him. against a vending machine in their company building, hidden in an alcove that is just small enough to be a little uncomfortable. mark is _kissing_ donghyuck.

with next to no experience (from both parties), it shouldn’t feel as good as it does, but mark chalks the incredible feeling up to the fact that this is donghyuck, and donghyuck is always good, no matter what he’s doing. his lips slide easily against mark’s, head moving in a steady rhythm as mark kisses him slow and deep, the way he’s always imagined, the way donghyuck deserves to be kissed.

he kisses donghyuck with reason, with every unsaid _i love you because_ , and donghyuck all but melts into him, making sounds of pleasure and failing at holding back small smiles until mark murmurs a soft, “love you,” against his lips, and he grins so wide it breaks them apart. mark grins back, pressing his forehead to donghyuck’s and sneaking in another kiss on the corner of his mouth.

donghyuck’s hand comes up to cover mark’s, and his smile grows into something sweeter as he says, “you want your answer now?”

mark leaves a gentle kiss on donghyuck’s forehead, “if you have it ready.”

“i’ve had it ready since i was fifteen.” donghyuck takes mark’s hand, kissing his palm once before placing it right over his heart, which is beating like he’s just ran a marathon. mark burns and burns and burns.

“see?” he asks, a perfect imitation of how he said it the very first time they did this, all those years ago. “i’m in love with you. through and through.”

words don’t quite make it past the heat of his mouth, and he kisses donghyuck again until they’re both breathless.

and again. and again. and again.

_believe me, all my moments are headed towards you._

**Author's Note:**

> didn't make the cut bc I didn't wanna mess with the tone, messages exchanged while hyuck finishes up recording:
> 
> hyuck: shit, this means that i owe jaemin money.  
> mark: im sorry what  
> hyuck: yeah he told me he was pretty sure u had a thing for me  
> hyuck: but I told him he had a brain the size of a walnut :/  
> hyuck: yk like a stegosaurus :/  
> mark: he.  
> mark: i told him that in CONFIDENCE  
> hyuck: to be fair trusting na jaemin with a secret is stupid  
> hyuck: you're stupid <3  
> mark: is this relationship just gonna be you calling me variations of stupid  
> hyuck: i think i have a commitment kink can u say relationship again  
> mark: first of all I hate u  
> mark: second of all  
> mark: relationship  
> hyuck: marry me. 
> 
> anyways I spent way too long on this fic but writing markhyuck is so.. fun?? addictive?? idk but i love them :(
> 
> I'm gonna try and finish my johnten wip before I officially turn 18 (don't say it too loud my aching bones might hear you) but we will see  
> 
> 
> [twt](https://twitter.com/punksunlight)


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